


Where Four Roads Meet

by whenshewrites



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, But He Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Demons, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is Not a Failwolf, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Multi, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam is a Saint, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Temporary Character Death, The Hale Pack - Freeform, scott isn't a great friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: When Derek is killed, Stiles makes a crossroads deal to bring him back. One that puts a timer on his life.Still, Stiles is more than willing to face the consequences, but the pack's not. They'll do whatever it takes; even if that means calling in the most well-known and feared supernatural hunters.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

It’d been three days since Derek Hale died.

Stiles thought after everything they’d been through, after everything they’d seen, it would be the end of the world or some kind of apocalypse that would eventually kill them all. Or, he thought, the pack would live to see old age, despite the odds, and they’d all be happy for once. He thought after everything they’d faced, that’s the least they deserved. Grand deaths or fulfilled lives.

Stiles thought some people deserved that more than others. Some people who’d faced tragedy over and over again and continued to put themselves in danger to protect everyone else despite it. Some people deserved a happy ending more than most.

It’d been three days since Derek Hale died and Stiles still couldn’t believe it. Because Derek wasn’t meant to die. He shouldn’t have even been there.

It was Scott’s idea.

The omega werewolf that’d come to Beacon Hills was searching for safety and security, nothing more. But he was violent and quick to attack, so Scott had decided it’d be best for Beacon Hills to not have another potential threat living in its borders. He’d also decided it’d be best for Derek to stay back. Of course, Scott hadn’t actually told that to Derek’s face, because none of them had a death wish. But it was a decision he’d made. 

Derek’s betas would never have agreed. So they weren’t told either.

Stiles hadn’t been so sure. Sure, Scott was the Alpha and his best friend, but Derek was the other Alpha of Beacon Hills. No matter their differences in the past, this was the present, and he was an Alpha and their friend. Stiles trusted Derek, even if it’d taken a bit for him to say that out loud. He’d trusted Derek longer than he’d ever admit.

But Scott was sure. And Scott was Stile’s Alpha. So they’d faced the omega alone.

Things never went to plan.

The omega didn’t take well to being dismissed, unsurprisingly. He got violent and they could’ve taken him out, but Scott had a policy on killing. When it came down to things like this, usually it was Derek that took care of the threat. But Derek wasn’t there.

Or at least, he wasn’t supposed to be.

Stiles was the omega’s target when things turned ugly. Because Stiles was the weaky squishy human with a baseball bat and the untapped powers of a spark. He didn’t have claws or fangs. He had easily torn skin and gangly limbs that always let him down.

Stiles would’ve been sliced to ribbons. He was supposed to be sliced to ribbons. But claws met another target instead and the second Stiles was knocked to the ground, another body shielding his own, a pained roar shattered the air. 

The omega’s claws drove deep into Derek’s back, sinking far enough to reach the spinal cord. Derek howled and collapsed against Stiles, his entire body jerking from the pain, and Stiles screamed his name. He was faintly aware of a dark blur— Boyd— ripping the omega away and tearing his throat out. But they were seconds too late and moments too slow.

Stiles thought some people deserved a happy ending more than most. But Derek, going limp on top of him, body shuddering in pain and breaths coming out in hot, wet gasps, didn’t get that. He didn’t get that when Stiles cradled his head, screams tearing from his throat, or when blood splattered the Alpha's teeth and dotted his lips. He didn't get that when Lydia shrieked or Isaac howled.

Derek Hale died three days ago and Stiles could still remember the last word that’d come out of his mouth had been his name. _His name._ Stiles, of all people.

Stiles didn’t leave his room. He didn’t think he ever wanted to again. He’d managed to get through changing out of bloodstained clothes, scrubbing his skin clean of Derek’s blood until it was raw and puffy, and had locked his door, sinking into the furthest corner of his room.

His dad tried the first day to get through. He tried to second too. By the third, he’d just sat on the other side and talked to Stiles for a couple of hours, before telling him there was dinner in a container on the other side, and he had to go to work.

Scott came through his window twice. Once to tell him the betas wouldn’t be accepting him as an Alpha and a second time to try and get Stiles to come out into actual daylight again. The moment he'd left, Stiles lined his window with mountain ash and refused to acknowledge Scott’s hourly visits again.

Stiles didn’t know what would happen to the betas if they didn’t take another Alpha. They’d be omegas too, he supposed. He knew he should be there for them. Because Stiles would never admit out loud that he’d come to _like_ Derek’s betas, but he had. He knew he should be there for them, just like he’d always tried to be in the past.

But Stiles didn’t leave his room on the third day either.

He did do research, though. And he found things he’d never would have considered before. Things he never should’ve been looking for in the first place.

There was a place in the preserve where four roads met. Stiles snuck out his window at midnight on the fourth day and found himself standing there twenty minutes later, a little metal container clasped tightly in his hands. The half-moon was the only reason he could see much of anything and Stiles didn’t give himself the chance to think things through, before he was burying the container in the dirt and pushing himself up to wait.

Stiles knew well enough this might not work. He’d seen a lot of supernatural things, but demons? Those weren’t his level of expertise. Neither was magic or much like it, despite his spark. But Stiles wasn’t exactly in the right mindset of things right now.

Because there were words he’d never said, things he’d never admitted, and— and Derek Hale deserved better. Even if he could be a furry asshole at times.

“Well,” a voice said, cutting through the air. “This is a surprise.”

Stiles spun around to see a woman with dark hair standing against the moonlight and he froze. She didn’t look like a demon. In fact, she looked as human as he was. The woman laughed and revealed white teeth.

“A young spark summoning a demon? Aren’t you a little over your head, boy?”

“You’re a demon,” Stiles said, fighting for his voice to stay steady. It didn’t work very well. “Seriously?”

“What?” The woman said, moving closer. Stiles took a step back for every single one she took forward and eventually, she just stopped, looking even more amused. “Not what you expected?”

“You don’t have horns. Or red eyes. Or sharp teeth.”

“Would you prefer I did?”

“Oh my god, no,” Stiles said, and she chuckled. “Please don’t. This—” he waved his hands through the air and then flushed. “It's um. It’s fine.”

“I trust you have a name, Little Red?”

Stiles blinked and then looked down at himself, taking in his scruffy jeans and red sweatshirt. He swallowed and thought for a second— because were people even supposed to tell demons their names? Couldn’t that be used against them or something? No, that was fae. That was fae, right? Stiles grimaced and shrugged. “Yeah, uh, it’s uh. Miguel.”

“Miguel.”

“It was my mother’s idea?”

The woman’s eyes flashed black for a second and Stiles yelped. But she only smirked. “Very well, Little Red, don’t tell me your name. But you can call me Bianca.”

“Bianca?”

“Problem?”

“Oh no,” Stiles said, raising his hands. “That’s a perfectly nice… demon name.”

Bianca looked increasingly amused by him. Stiles didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. She stepped forward again and he didn’t retreat back this time, forcing himself to hold his ground. It didn’t help when her eyes shifted to black again. “I trust you’ve called me for a reason? Or are you really foolish enough to call a demon to a crossroads without a deal in mind?”

“I have a deal,” Stiles said, drawing himself up. Bianca’s eyes turned back to normal as she smiled.

“Oh?”

“I want you to bring someone back to life.”

Bianca drew away a little, looking surprised. Stiles raised a brow at the reaction and smirked. 

“What, did you think I’d ask for something a lot more cliche? Ask for riches or fame instead? Trust me, lady, I don’t want anything like that.”

“No deal,” Bianca said, turning around. Stiles froze, then leaped forward and caught her by the arm. Bianca swung around when he did and snarled, teeth turned sharp and eyes the color of inky black. Stiles reared back and his heart nearly leaped out of his chest.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t leave.”

“Demon’s don’t bring people back to life, boy.”

“You can’t?”

Bianca didn’t answer. Stiles set his jaw.

“Or you won’t.”

“Go home, Little Red,” Bianca said, turning away again. “Deals like this aren’t good for a soul like yours.”

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

That made her pause. Stiles stepped forward. 

“Anything, just name it.”

Bianca turned to regard him. The look in her eyes wasn’t anything other than hungry and Stiles did his best not to shift nervously, tongue darting out to wet his lips. She smirked after a moment and tilted her head. “You wish to save the werewolf.”

“What?”

“You can play your games, Mieczyslaw, but I can see right into your head.”

Stiles stiffened. Bianca stepped close and reached out to touch his face, a cold finger tracing along the line of his chin. Stiles shivered and fought the urge to pull away. Bianca chuckled at that. 

“Love,” she said. “Makes people do idiotic things.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Stiles said hotly. “He’s my friend.”

“Is that so?”

“Can you bring him back?”

“I could,” Bianca said. “For the right price.”

“That’s a real change of tune,” Stiles said, glaring. “What the hell do you want?”

“I don’t expect you’d know the deal of trading for a life,” Biance crooned. “But it’s simple, really. A soul for a soul.”

Stiles froze. “What?”

“One life for that of another. What did you expect, Mieczyslaw, I’d take your firstborn?”

“I was thinking something along the lines of an IOU or my weekly allowance,” Stiles tried weakly. Bianca’s eyes glittered.

“You’re an amusing one. Tell you what, Little Red. I won’t kill you now. I’ll give you time. A year.”

“A… A year?”

“Should I make it less?”

“I’m only eighteen,” Stiles said weakly. “I haven’t even been to college yet. I’m all my dad’s got. And a year—”

“This wouldn’t be your first run-in with a demon,” Bianca said, cutting him off. She studied his face. “Or a demon of some kind. The nogitsune. How many of your victims from that should’ve gotten longer than another year?”

Stiles flinched like he’d been hit. He couldn’t help it.

“You know your father worries about your future, Mieczyslaw,” Bianca continued. “How he’ll put you through college and continue to pay the mortgage. How you’ll fit in after everything that’s happened. He’s just relieved you still haven’t had a psychotic break yet.”

“You’re lying,” Stiles said weakly. She scoffed.

“Am I? Can you know that for sure?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“One year,” Bianca said. “One year of living your best life. Not having to worry about the future, or those around you, or remembering all the mistakes you’ve made in the past. One year and in return, your little werewolf will live a full life.”

Stiles straightened. Bianca smiled.

“Yes, Mieczyslaw, he’ll live a full life. The same one you so believe he deserves.”

“He does,” Stiles growled out. She shrugged.

“Then what is it? Him or you?”

Stiles hesitated. He glanced down at his fingers and counted them, even though he knew all of this was happening. Bianca waited patiently as he took a shaky breath, glancing back up. “Can I have a day to think about it?”

“Your decision happens now, Little Red. Now or never.”

“What happens to me after a year?” Stiles asked, voice shaking. “Do I just… die?”

Bianca only smiled. Stiles dropped his eyes. He remembered the way the omega had come after him and he was the one that was supposed to die. Derek wasn’t even supposed to be there. It should be Stiles as the one who’d missed living a long life, not him.

But he was scared. He was downright terrified. And could he do that to the others? Offer himself up? His dad and Scott… except maybe they would be better off. Derek could defend himself where Stiles couldn’t. Derek was the Alpha of a currently broken pack while Stiles was just the token human. He should’ve been the one to die in the first place.

“I can tell you this,” Bianca said soothingly. “Your friends and family will hurt at first. But they’ll move on eventually.”

“They will?”

“And they’ll all live full lives too. Even your father with his fragile heart.”

Stiles took a trembling breath and looked up. He had no doubts demons lied. But he couldn’t read any deceit in Bianca’s eyes. Maybe that’s because she wasn’t lying. Or she was just really good at it. He supposed it didn’t really matter because he’d already made up his mind. Stiles had known he’d do whatever it took the moment he’d come out here.

“One year,” Stiles said, words shaking. “And Derek comes back to live a full life.”

“You have my word, Little Red.”

“So how it is done, then?” Stiles asked nervously. “Is there a blood rite or a contract or—”

Bianca smiled and caught his hand, and he yelped in surprise. But Stiles’s yelp quickly turned to one of pain when she squeezed and a black mark formed near the base of his thumb. A single five-pointed star. She drew back with black eyes. “One year, Little Red. I suggest you enjoy it.”

Stiles stared at the mark for a second. The skin around it was red. Blinking, he started to look up. “But what about Dere—”

Except Bianca was gone. The night was cold and empty.

And Stiles was left alone in the silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles didn’t know what to do first. Did he go looking for Derek? Had Bianca even gone through with the deal? Stiles sat in his jeep and stared at the mark on his hand, sure she must have done something. He just didn’t know what. Because Derek… would he just show up?

Stiles got his answer less than thirty seconds later.

Suddenly, his phone was ringing and Stiles raised an eyebrow at seeing it was  _ Jackson’s  _ number, of all people. He blinked before answering, bringing the phone up to his ear. 

“Uh, Jackson?”

“What the fuck is going on, Stilinski? What the hell did you do?”

Stiles’s blood went cold. “Uh, what did I do`?”

“Yes, you, idiot! Derek is at the freaking loft. Derek Hale, dead Alpha Derek Hale. What the fuck did you do?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, turning the ignition and shoving the jeep into drive. He kept the phone pressed against his ear. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? That’s Derek. Real Derek.”

“Yeah, idiot, I noticed! He’s all red-eyed and snarling around the loft repeating your name. I swear to god, Stilinski, if you’ve broken our Alpha—”

“Shut up, Jackson, I’ll be there in ten. Don’t let him leave or anything, you hear me?”

“You don’t give me orders Stilinski—”

But Stiles hung up before Jackson could finish his sentence. Pressing down harder on the gas, Stiles drove through the preserve and tried to calm his thrumming nerves. Anxiety and alarm pounded underneath his skin, along with a twinge of fear. What if the Derek they got back wasn’t the Derek they’d lost? What if the demon had done something? 

And why was Derek asking for him?

Stiles had already decided none of the pack was going to know about the deal he’d made. Because if he said anything, they’d try to do something, and Stiles couldn’t see that ending well. Someone would end up dying and Stiles wasn’t risking it being Derek again. Or anyone else.

And he wouldn’t let them feel guilty.

Stiles got to the loft in record time. He half-stumbled, half-ran up to the loft and burst through the door to see Derek leaning heavily against the opposite wall. His chest rose and fell in heaving pants and the pack stood warily a few feet away. Stiles stumbled to a stop and they turned toward him. Jackson’s eyes flashed beta blue. 

“Finally, Stilinski.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, ignoring him. “Derek?”

Stiles could only stare for a moment, the memories of Derek’s broken body and blood-stained lips flashing in front of his eyes. Derek turned toward him, grey-green eyes wide, and Stiles’s breaths clogged in his throat. The Alpha’s face was still streaked with blood. His shirt was still stained crimson. He looked like death and Stiles’s heartbeat stuttered.

“D-Derek?”

“What,” Derek said, the words shaking. “Did you do?”

_ Shit.  _ Stiles stared. “I didn’t do anything. How are you… um, feeling?”

Standing behind Derek, Boyd straightened. Stiles cursed internally as he realized the blip in his heartbeat must have been obvious through the lie. But maybe he could mark it as shock. Or something. Derek, on the other hand, looked at him with darkening eyes.

“You did something, Stiles. What the hell did you do?”

“Look, Derek, I—”

Suddenly, Stiles was being driven against the wall and Derek was clutching handfuls of his sweatshirt, breaths hot against his face. Stiles flinched back and turned his face away, feeling cold cement against his cheek, only to go still. Derek’s entire body was trembling, he realized. The werewolf’s shoulders slumped for a second, then Derek drew himself up again, loosening his grip a little.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered. “She said your name. She said your real name. What did you do?”

“Nothing, I swear!” 

_ “Stiles!” _

“Derek, I don’t know what you want me to tell you!” Stiles shouted, trying to shake the man off. It worked about as well as he expected. “You were dead and now you’re back. Can’t you just be grateful?”

Derek drew back. He stared at Stiles for a moment then looked down at his hands, where they were covered in blood. Blood from three days ago. His face turned even paler and Derek looked back up as if the realization had just sunk in. “I was dead.”

“Derek,” Isaac said, stepping forward. “What happened?”

“I was dead,” Derek said again, disbelieving. Stiles swallowed.

“But you’re not now,” he said. “You’re back.”

“How am I back?”

Stiles bit his tongue. Behind Boyd, Erica narrowed her eyes, and even Jackson was looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Stilinski, what did you do?”

“How many times do I have to say nothing?”

“You’re lying,” Erica said. “Your heart skipped a beat.”

“I’m just surprised.”

“Lie.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

“Where were you?” Jackson said, eyes glinting. “When I called?”

“At home, asshole, sleeping. What do you think?”

“Stilinski, I swear to god—”

“Goddammit,” Stiles said, glaring at the four betas. “Alright, so I did something, what’s it matter? Derek is back! Derek is—”

Derek was pale and swaying, and Stiles started toward him but didn’t reach the Alpha before he crashed to the floor, curling up in on himself. Stiles dropped to his knees at the man’s side and caught one of his hands, only to yank back at how  _ cold  _ they were. Deathly cold.

Terror crashed over him. 

“No,” Stiles said, taking Derek’s hand again. He pressed two fingers against Derek’s pulse point and nearly had a heart attack at how faint it was. “No, this isn’t supposed to be what happens. Derek’s supposed to be alive. She said he’d stay alive.”

“Who, Stilinski,” Jackson growled. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

“Bianca,” Stiles said, the words tumbling out. “The demon. The one at the crossroads—”

_ “What?” _

“Derek’s supposed to live. We made a deal!”

Stiles couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t watch Derek die  _ again.  _ With shaking hands, he pulled the man’s head into his lap and closed his eyes, clenching his teeth so hard they gnashed. Stiles couldn’t repeat what happened three days ago. He couldn’t see Derek alive only to watch him die once more.

“Come on,” Stiles said, squeezing Derek’s hand tight. “Come on, you furry asshole, you’re not supposed to die. I made a deal.”

Bianca could have been lying. Maybe she’d tricked Stiles and now his life was going to end soon too. Stiles didn’t know how to deal with demons. He didn’t know how they treated their contracts or if they stuck to their word. Stiles closed his eyes and brought Derek’s hand up against his cheek, trying to imagine the touch was warmer than it was. Standing over them, Erica whined.

They didn’t deserve to see Derek die again either.

“Come on,” Stiles said. “Please.”

Suddenly, he felt it. A twitch through Derek’s fingers as they wrapped around Stiles’s own and squeezed back. Stiles’s heart leaped and Derek made a faint noise at the back of his throat, shifting a little. His eyes fluttered open again. They were dazed.

“Derek?” Stiles said, lowering the hand. “Oh my god, Derek?”

“M’ here,” Derek mumbled. “M’ awake.”

“We need to take him to Deaton,” Boyd said. “There has to be something he can do. Or knows.”

Stiles almost protested again, if only for the realization that Deaton might realized exactly what he did. But his worry for Derek overcame his worry for himself. Stiles nodded and let both Isaac and Boyd pull the Alpha to his feet. The man hung heavily in their arms. 

“Jackson,” Boyd started. “Can we—”

“Take Stilinski’s jeep,” Jackson said, eyes still on Stiles. “He’ll ride with me.”

“What?” Stiles asked, staring. “Uh, how about no?”

“It’s funny that you think you have a choice.”

“Um, asshole, I’m not—”

“Guys,” Erica said, her voice trembling. “We don’t have time for this.”

Stiles looked at her. Then he glowered back at Jackson, digging around in his pocket and pulling his car keys out. He pressed them into Boyd’s open hand, giving the beta a warning look. “Only you drive. And don’t forget about my baseball bat that I will use if anything happens to Roscoe.”

Boyd only grunted in response and he and Isaac started toward the loft doors. Erica hesitated a moment, eyes darting between Stiles and Jackson, before following. Stiles crossed his arms the second they were alone.

“Look, Jackson, I don’t know what your problem is, but can we please go?”

Jackson looked at him. His lips were curled back and his eyes were dark, but he didn’t look angry, exactly. Just immensely irritated. “You are a fucking idiot, Stilinski.”

“Um, excuse me? First of all, rude, second of all. Rude?”

“You made a deal,” Jackson said, his flashing to blue for a second. “With the devil.”

“Actually, she was a demon. But no horns or red eyes or anything, which I found very surprising. And she had a seriously human name. I mean Bianca? Really?”

“Dammit, Stilinski,” Jackson shouted. “What was the deal?”

Stiles tensed, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. He didn’t want to answer that. “None of your business, asshole. Why do you care, anyway?”

“Because you’ve done a lot of stupid things in the past, Stiles, but this? This is downright idiotic.”

“Would you rather I have just let Derek die?”

“Derek was already dead! He was already gone, don’t you realize that?”

Stiles drew back, glaring at the blue-eyed beta. He and Jackson had never quite gotten along but over the years, they’d developed a sort of mutual agreement to not go at each other’s throats on the daily. Except this was Jackson being serious. This was Jackson caring about someone other than himself. As if Jackson could read his mind, he dropped his gaze.

“Don’t give me that look. Derek was my Alpha too, even if it took a while.”

“Then why are you so upset I brought him back?”

“Because believe it or not,'' Jackson said, sneering at him again. “You’re pack too, idiot.”

Stiles drew back. He turned his head away and tried to swallow past the knot in his throat, shrugging. “Guess that’s exactly why I couldn’t let Derek stay dead.”

“What kind of deal did you make?”

“Can we please head to Deaton’s now?” Stiles asked, blatantly ignoring the question. “Or I could start walking.”

“Goddammit, Stilinski—”

“Jackson,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “Seriously.”

The beta clenched his jaw, eyes flaring angrily for a second. Then he growled out a curse and shouldered by, starting toward the loft door. Stiles didn’t wait long before following.

The drive to Deaton’s was silent. Which was fine with Stiles.

He didn’t wait for Jackson when they arrived, rushing inside. Stiles tried to brush off their entire conversation too. It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on right now. It wasn’t something he thought he could. Every second that passed reminded Stiles of the deal he’d made and that he’d be dead in a—  _ fuck.  _ No. He wasn't concentrating on that.

Derek sat on the edge of the metal table in the middle of the office, as Erica dabbed a wet cloth against the dried blood on his face. Deaton was waiting, arms crossed and one brow raised. The other betas were off to the side.

Derek looked up sharply when Stiles entered the room. The Alpha’s face did a number of things— none of which Stiles knew how to categorize. He looked like he was going to say something but Stiles did first, stuttering to a stop.

_ “Derek.” _

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said, interjecting before Derek could say a word. Stiles shot him a dirty look.

“What?”

“Do you want to start explaining some things?”

Stiles clenched his jaw. “No.”

“I really think you should,” Deaton said. “Especially because all of Derek’s betas are sharing the same story that you have something to do with Derek’s sudden return to the land of the living.”

“Maybe I do,” Stiles said, shrugging. He was proud his voice didn’t shake even a little. “What’s it matter?”

“What did you do, Mr. Stilinski?”

“I made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“The kind that brought Derek back,” Stiles said, glaring at Deaton. “No, I won’t explain further and no, I won’t be taking any constructive criticism.”

“Stiles,” Derek murmured from where he sat. With great difficulty, Stiles met his eyes and nearly flinched away from the pain and confusion in them. “Why am I back?”

Stiles tore his gaze away. He glared angrily at the ground for a second before crossing his arms over his chest and shuffling his feet. Suddenly, the knot was back in his throat. “Cause I made a deal. For you.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I put a few things into a container, buried it in the middle of the preserve, and met a surprisingly non red-eyed or horned demon. And she offered me a deal that would fix everything.”

“Stiles,” Deaton said, stepping around the counter. “What did she want?”

“My weekly allowance,” Stiles said flatly. The druid’s face tightened.

“The truth, Mr. Stilinski. What did you give in return for Derek’s life?”

Stiles made the mistake of meeting Derek’s gaze, because the look in his eyes tore him to pieces. He shrugged, though his fingers were trembling again. “Can we talk alone?”

The other betas all started protesting instantly. But Deaton cut them off with a raise of his hand and nodded. “Out. All of you.”

The protests died. But Stiles could feel them watching him, filing out one by one until it was only him, Deaton, and Derek left. Stiles kept his eyes on the floor. “Derek too.”

Derek straightened. “What?”

“Derek too,” Stiles repeated, not looking at him. “I need to talk to Deaton alone.”

“Stiles—”

“Derek, please.”

Derek stared at him, but Stiles wouldn’t look back. After a moment, the Alpha nodded and pushed himself up, wincing a little, which made Stiles flinch. Stiles didn’t move until Derek was gone and waited even longer, quietly wondering if the wolves were listening in. And if he could even stop them if they were.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said after another few moments. Stiles swallowed hard.

“I made a deal with her. I’m not going back on it.”

“The demon.”

“Yes,” Stiles said quietly. “She promised Derek would live a full life. The life he was supposed to have.”

“In exchange for?”

Stiles wouldn’t look at him. “Me.”

Deaton straightened. Stiles rubbed a hand over his face and took a trembling breath, trying to force a sarcastic smile. It didn’t work very well. 

“I have a year.”

“Mr. Stilinski—”

“Derek wasn’t supposed to die,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “I was. And this time, there was something I could do about it. One year is longer than any of us in this town can hope for anyway. Have you seen the type of monsters we face every other week?”

“Stiles,” Deaton said, gently. “You’ve just sold your soul.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles said. “Maybe she’ll have a better use for it. I just eat a lot of curly fries and stare at the ceiling for hours these days.”

“If a demon has accepted your soul, Stiles,” Deaton said. “It doesn’t have any good plans for it. You have to know this.”

“Maybe I do,” Stiles shot back. “The nogitsune didn’t, after all. But maybe I don’t care.”

Deaton regarded him with a quiet expression. Stiles ground his teeth together and uncrossed his arms, shrugging. He meant everything he’d said, no matter how it’d come out. And if he were to be given the choice again at the crossroads, Stiles would do the same thing. Deaton’s eyes softened a little.

“There’s no getting out of a deal like this.”

“I’m not looking to get out,” Stiles said quietly. “I did what I wanted to.”

“The pack won’t take it well.”

“The pack doesn’t need to know everything.”

“I think it might be a little late for that,” Deaton replied. Stiles straightened and the man looked over his shoulder— Stiles spun around to see a pale face standing in the doorway. Derek stood shock-still with the betas at his back. For a moment, none of them moved. Then Stiles retreated a step backwards.

“Derek…”

_ “Stiles.” _

“Derek, I can explain.”

“What did you  _ do?” _


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles sat silently on the couch of the loft. The other three betas stood off to the side watching him and Derek just stood there. Staring. 

He looked a little constipated and a lot angry. And something else. Something Stiles couldn’t narrow down. Stiles tried to hold his gaze but when it felt like his face was getting seared off by the intensity of Derek’s stare, he quickly turned his gaze away. Toward where the betas stood, looking like they were seeing a dead man.

In a way, Stiles supposed they were. He felt sick.

“Derek, I—”

“Shut up,” Derek said, his words strangled. He stared at Stiles for a moment longer and then growled deep in his throat, eyes flashing red for a moment. Stiles winced.

“There’s no going back, you know,” Stiles whispered. “I made my decision.”

“A decision you didn’t have the right to make!” Derek shouted. His eyes flashed again, but they stayed red this time. The betas whined and Derek grimaced, turning his face away. He barely looked at them but jerked his head toward the door. “Out.”

“Derek...” Boyd started. But then Derek growled and the beta flashed his throat, before nodding. Stiles watched them leave with a pit forming in his stomach. He’d felt a lot safer with a bunch of witnesses here. 

As stupid as that sounded.

Once they’d all filed out, Derek stood still for a moment longer. Only when he’d apparently deemed they were far enough away, he turned back to where Stiles sat and the look in his eyes was nothing other than pained _.  _ It made Stiles’s breaths catch and his stomach tie itself into a knot.

“Why,” Derek said, his voice barely a whisper. “Why, Stiles?”

“You died,” Stiles said softly. Derek flinched, as if he was still wrapping his head around that. Stiles was scared to ask what had happened. Was it just darkness? Did Derek remember dying in his arms? The very thought hurt him more than anything else.

“I should’ve stayed dead,” Derek said. “Stiles, why the hell would you try to bring me back?”

“Seriously?” Stiles said, pushing himself to his feet. Derek held his gaze, eyes on fire, and a lump formed in Stiles’s throat. “Because dammit, Derek, you  _ died.  _ For me. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?”

“I would’ve died for anyone in the pack,” Derek said. Stiles clenched his jaw.

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have to. You don’t deserve to!”

Derek blinked. Cursing, Stiles dropped his gaze.

“You died and you left a pack behind. People who need you, who care about you. What was I supposed to do, go home and try to forget about it?”

“Yes.”

Stiles’s fingers trembled, so he clenched them into fists. He could barely breathe. “Yeah, well, I don’t see it that way. There was something I could do to help and there’s no way in hell I was going to sit back and not do it.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, stepping forward. Stiles glared at the floor, eyes burning and face hot. He didn’t want to see the disappointment— or even worse, the resentment— in the man’s eyes. Derek paused a few feet away. “Do you really think I’m going to let you die for me?”

“The deal’s been struck.”

“We’ll figure out a way around it.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles said, forcing himself to look up. Derek looked wrecked and somehow, that was even worse. Because that was his doing. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

Derek looked like he’d been punched. “What?”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Stiles said again. “There’s a reason I didn’t want anyone to know, Derek. You’ll all get over it. She said you’ll all get over it.”

“She. The—”

“Yes,” Stiles said. “The demon. A literal demon, Derek. Do you really think I’m getting out of this? She… she promised you’d all be fine. She said you’d live a full life.”

“And for that, you’ll die.”

“Shame, really.”

Derek’s face tightened. Stiles swallowed hard. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not that— dammit, Stiles! What’s wrong with you? How the hell could you think this isn’t bad?”

Stiles didn’t know what else to say. If he was being honest, he didn’t have anything else to say. Because each word made it more real and Stiles just wanted to focus on the fact that Derek was back. He didn’t want to think about what it cost or how in a year, Stiles would be paying for it. He didn’t want to think about any of that.

Derek wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily.

“We’re going to tell the rest of the pack and we’re going to tell your father. And together, we’re going to figure out a way to fix this.”

“No,” Stiles said, eyes snapping back up. “No, you can’t tell my dad. Derek, don’t you dare tell my dad, you hear me? That’s not— that won’t— that’ll break him.”

“And what do you think it’s doing to me?”

Stiles flinched. He glared at the floor for a second before balling up his hands and starting around Derek toward the door. But a hand caught his arm before he could escape.

“Stiles,” Derek said brokenly. “Stiles, you can’t do this.”

“It’s already done.”

“I’m going to tell the others. We’re going to make things right.”

“If you tell my dad, I’ll never forgive you,” Stiles said, turning back toward the werewolf. “And if you try to ‘fix things’ and die again, I’ll hate you forever. I only have one year, Derek, don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that.”

Derek’s hand on his arm loosened and fell. Stiles tried to swallow past the knot in his throat, searching the man’s face. 

“Please, Derek. Don’t make me lose you again.”

“So in order for that, I have to lose you instead?”

_ You never had me,  _ Stiles wanted to say. He and Derek had always had a rocky relationship but Stiles— he couldn’t face the rest of his life without Derek. And he knew for the other man, things weren’t the same. Stiles had long since come to accept that. But he still couldn’t make himself say those words out loud. Instead, Stiles offered up his best smile. “I’m still here.”

“Don’t,” Derek said. And that was all he seemed to be able to get out.

“It’s already done.”

And then, just like the betas, Derek was looking at him like he was seeing a dead man. Stiles turned away again, unable to hold that look for any longer, and left the loft too. His chest felt like a hole had opened up and his heart had fallen out.

He didn’t see how Derek continued to stare at the door even when it had closed. Or how the man slumped to his knees, face lost of any sort of emotion.

Stiles left the loft certain of what he’d done. There was no going back.

He didn’t hear Derek’s broken howl.

* * *

There was a brief grace period of three days where nothing happened. 

Stiles stayed in his room and when his dad came in to check on him, easily avoided mention of the fact that Derek was alive again. He lined his window with mountain ash and ignored any werewolves that dropped by for a visit. Stiles watched movies, played video games, and tried not to think about how this was his last summer.

God, when did his thoughts get so depressing?

But on the third day, the grace period broke and everything went downhill. Stiles really should’ve been expecting it.

It started when someone rang the door instead of knocking on his window. Stiles knew he hadn’t ordered a pizza and his dad was at work; so he ignored it. The doorbell ran three more times before Stiles heard a crash.

Leaping to his feet with a curse, Stiles pulled on a pair of sweatpants and stumbled toward the stairs. He grabbed his bat from where it sat near the bottom step and rounded the corner with it raised over his head, swinging the second he saw his intruder.

Scott stumbled back with a yell, eyes red and face half-shifted. Stiles squawked and stumbled back too, dropping the bat to the floor.

“Scott, what the hell? What are you doing here?”

“You’re not answering your phone, your window is blocked, and you ignored the door!” Scott shouted back, face shifted to normal again. “Dude, Derek’s alive! Derek’s back and he’s alive!”

Stiles clenched his jaw, faltering back another step. Scott’s face turned confused and he stared.

“You knew.”

“No.”

“Your heart just skipped a beat,” Scott said, looking angry. “You knew! Stiles, how could you not tell me? Derek is alive! Derek shouldn’t be alive!”

“Why does it matter?” Stiles snapped. “So he’s alive, good for him. Doesn’t he deserve it?”

Scott drew back, looking at him with wide eyes. “Stiles, Derek died. He died and we buried him. He shouldn’t be back unless it means something bad. We have to fix this.”

“Fix this? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said, eyes flashing again. “But he has to be stopped.”

“Dude, you’re making it sound like Derek did something wrong. He’s here and he’s not doing anything. Just... leave it."

“What do you know?”

Stiles looked at Scott in confusion. The boy was studying his face, eyes narrowed.

“What do you know about Derek being back?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles said, turning away. He wasn’t even going to address the fact that Scott had literally broken into his house at this point. Right now, Stiles just wanted to be alone again. Except, Scott clearly didn’t get the message, chasing after him.

“Stiles, you know something. Did you help bring him back? Do you know  _ how  _ he came back?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Stiles said, spinning around again. Scott stepped back, hands raised, and Stiles took a deep breath. “Please, Scotty, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know something.”

It was clear the message wasn’t sinking in so Stiles turned away again. He moved into his kitchen and ignored the boy tailing him, opening the fridge and scrounging around through it. There were leftovers from frozen meals and take-out diners from the nights before; Stiles felt a pang of guilt at that. He hadn’t been down to cook dinner for his dad in days.

It was like a blow to the stomach when Stiles realized that in a year, this might be all the fridge looked like. But the demon… she’d promised he’d be okay. His dad would live a long life.

No matter what crap he ate.

Stiles realized he was breathing heavily and Scott was looking at him like he was losing it. Taking a deep breath, Stiles grabbed the nearest meal and turned away again, hoping that eventually, the young Alpha would get the message and leave.

Stiles never got what he wanted.

“Stiles,” Scott said after another long moment. “We’re best friends.”

“Yeah, dude.”

“So why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Stiles clenched his jaw and waited for the microwave to beep. But it took too long and he took out his food when it was still cold. Moving around Scott, Stiles started up the stairs again. The front door was still wide open; if Scott broke it, Stiles was going to kill him. 

The boy trailed him all the way into his bedroom. But Stiles had made a line of mountain ash in front of his door too, so when he stepped over the line, Scott rebounded off. The boy made a startled noise and then gave Stiles a look of betrayal.

“Stiles, what the  _ hell.” _

“I told you,” Stiles said, turning toward him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Scott opened his mouth again, but Stiles shut the door before he could get a word in. Sighing, he moved back over to his laptop and phone, dropping his food next to them and sitting down heavily.

A quick check of his phone proved that yes, Scott had called eight times. And texted even more than that. Stiles scrolled past them and nearly turned off his phone, but froze when he saw Derek’s name. And a single message.

_ ‘We need to talk.’ _

Stiles stared at the message for a moment longer. He was sorely tempted to turn his phone off again and pretend he’d never seen it, but looking at his cold meal and nearly drained laptop, Stiles sighed and thumbed to Derek’s contact number. Clicking the name ‘Sourwolf’, he brought the phone to his ear.

It only rang a few times before Derek answered.

“Stiles.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, with exhaustion he felt all the way to his bones. “Now is not a good time. I have a cold leftover meal to eat.”

“Meet me at the diner in ten minutes.”

Stiles stared at his wall for a minute, blinking a few times. Then he wet his lips. “What?”

“The diner. Ten minutes.”

“No, Derek I—”

But then the asshole hung up. Stiles pulled his phone from his ear and stared at it before sighing heavily. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the house. He hadn’t showered in three days and he was wearing the same clothes he had been from the day after Derek died. 

The smell alone could probably kill a werewolf, Stiles realized. Lingering on that thought for a second, he eventually pushed himself up and slipped his phone into his pocket, starting toward the door.

Fine, if Derek wanted to see him, Derek could see him.

Stench be damned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey! Finally an update. Sometimes, you guys can come yell at me on Tumblr because that tends to make me pick a fic and just write. And I've been starting too many new ones for my own good. But I hope you all enjoyed <3
> 
> The comments/support you guys leave makes my day!!
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr!
> 
> [the trashbin](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent, I have no self-control, and all those normal things I usually put in these notes. Along with the fact that I adore you guys! Seriously, y'all have made this quarantine survivable.
> 
> Anyway, your support and comments mean the world. And come hang with me on Tumblr! when-she-writes-stuff is the account I just love to dump all my garbage in.


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